Wednesday, July 8, 2015


She's seven today, my first grandchild. And in celebration this morning, I finally got around to hanging my hummingbird feeder. But I celebrate much more in my thoughts: this lean, lanky cinnamon colored girl who has brought the world to me in ways I had not imagined. Her sensitivity and empathy stop me; I watch her crouch down to let her brother climb onto her back. Images of children all over the world with their baby siblings bound to their backs crowd my view. I ask her to set him down for the walk to the river; it is too long and he is almost 3 and old enough to walk on his own. She obliges, but as we walk she constantly turns her head to check his progress! He is soon leading us down the path and we laugh at his antics.
She has seemed precocious to me in everything from kicking a small soccer ball at 3, to learning to read before 5. She is a story teller extraordinaire; with at least 5 on-going sagas of families  whose names I struggle to remember. Now she is not only learning  Amharic, but is nearly fluent in Spanish since attending an international school in Dominican Republic in winters, where she studies French. And she plays piano. And she loves salads. And she makes cards for every occasion. And I am beyond proud to be her Nanee.

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